


Test of Blood

by Moonalight



Series: Laughing Magician [3]
Category: Constantine (TV), Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Blood Magic, Family Reunions, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonalight/pseuds/Moonalight
Summary: Time for John to find out the truth on his own terms. Why didn't he think about using magic earlier?
Series: Laughing Magician [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935307
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	Test of Blood

******  
It was a small hole-in-the-wall pub with dirty air and even dirtier customers that John found himself in. Most decent folk wouldn’t find themselves in such walls. It was the sort of place anyone with common sense would avoid if given the choice. 

So it was exactly the place he wanted to meet this twin of his again. 

It’d taken only one text. An address and a time. He’d received only one in reply since.

‘Thank you.’ 

He wanted to be his usual self. Wanted to pretend there was nothing earth shattering about this, and everything could go on like normal afterwards. But he was kidding himself. It was clearly affecting him. He couldn’t even down a single drink because of how much his stomach was tossing. 

If his spell proved them to be blood...if his mother had really had a second son; twins, then John wasn’t quite sure what he’d do. 

Why? What had happened? For what reason were they separated? 

He would drive himself bloody mad if he kept dwelling on it. 

So he waited and pretended he wasn’t pacing like an anxious git. He ignored the stares and glares of other patrons, watching the door out of the corner of his eye as he flicked his lighter on and off. 

And then it opened. 

And on the other side was Mick Rawson. His potential family. 

The brunette him had a dark glint in his equally dark eyes. He took in the pub in its entirety, scanning it for whatever he was looking for. Until his eyes found John. That was when all the tense alarm faded from his form. 

Wasn’t that a strange thing? That someone could find so much relief from his presence? He hadn’t had that in a long, long while. Perhaps this was a mistake. People who looked at him like that were the people he always let down. The people that always came back to bite him. 

So why didn’t he just leave?

Instead of doing the sensible thing for the both of them, he waved. His lips quirked up into what could've been a tick of a smile before nervousness stole it away again. And that was probably the kicker. He was nervous. Fantastic. 

“Hey,” Mick’s voice was quieter than his, less boisterous. Not in a self conscious way. It was more like he was thinking as he spoke, scouting out everything before making his move. He also had a different accent. Still British like John, but not from Liverpool. 

“Cheers,” he tried to keep the breathless nervousness from his voice, but failed miserably. For a second they just stood there in the middle of the pub, staring at each other. 

“The test came back positive,” the brunette said, even softer now. He seemed to be taking in everything about John in the exact same way the magician was him. 

“I got as much from your texts,” he nodded, pulling his phone out to wave pointlessly.

“So you were ignoring me?” Mick asked, tilting his head and smirking slightly, “Or did your bedmate keep you away?” 

He tapped the side of his own neck pointedly. His hoodie covered much of the skin and for a second John couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. When he did, his hand flew up to his shirt collar. 

There was a sensitive mark just above the white line. It hadn’t been a concern to him when he got out of the shower that morning, but he hadn’t really been thinking straight. 

“Oh, I’m going to make you pay for that one tonight Luci,” he hissed, feeling strangely flustered. It wasn’t like him. Then again, none of this was like him. He felt like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Like taking a cookie from the cookie jar without permission.

Mick laughed at his state, but there was a note of nervousness there. Like he wasn’t sure if he overstepped. This was new territory for both of them. And what John had to ask wouldn’t make things much easier. 

“A bit of both, to answer your questions,” the warlock huffed, shoving his hands into his coat pockets, “I had...a night.”

“Good or bad?” Then the agent shook his head, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Sorry. This is...”

“Ridiculous? Insane, should’ve never happened, can’t believe it, or mind breaking?” 

“New.” They just stared at each other again. By now, many of the patrons were whispering and pointing. It was probably an odd sight. Two blokes with the same face, nearly the same accent, different hair colors and styles, standing in the middle of the pub anxiously dancing around each other.

Usually John loved having an audience. Showing off and being generally dickish about it was how he rolled. But now, he just wanted some privacy for what came next. 

“The owner’s been kind enough to lend us the back room for our chat,” he informed Mick with a wave of his hand, turning on his heel to depart from the stares of those around them, “I have...a request for you to put up with.”

“Should I be nervous?” 

“Only if you lied about the test results,” John told him with a slight chilled edge to his voice. He sensed the man tense up, following him out of the main pub floor and into a stairwell. 

“I didn’t,” he said shortly, sounding a tad more unsure now, “And I thought you said ‘back room’ not basement.” 

“Tit for tat,” the warlock huffed, flicking a light switch at the bottom of the steps. The concrete walls and floor certainly made for an eerie image with light reflecting off of them. Too clean, sterile. But it also made the dark markings stand out all the more prominently. 

He heard Mick freeze up on the steps behind him as he took in the room. The melted candles and diagram drawn in black over the hard ground. Shelves in one corner of the room that held books and jars aplenty. 

It all appeared quite dark when looked at from a certain point of view. 

“Does this have to do with your ‘master of the dark arts’ card?” There wasn’t as much disbelief or suspicion in his voice as John had been expecting. More resigned. As thought he’d prepared himself for such an outcome. 

Perhaps he had. In the case that they actually were related, he would’ve had to accept the warlock’s profession sooner or later. 

“I’m planning to have new ones made,” he said casually as he moved about the circle preparing things, “but it’s a lot of tassel for such a small thing.”

“What exactly are you asking me to do here?” Mick finished descending the stairs, looking around with even more uncertainty than before. John could admire the man hadn’t run or called him a loon yet. This was going far better than he expected. 

“It’s not a very difficult spell,” the magician promised, lighting one of the blood red candles ringing the magic sigil, “I really should’ve done this sooner, but it’ll prove if we’re related.”

“Don’t trust the DNA test?”

“I don’t trust much of anything unless I have my hand in it,” John shrugged, “No offence.” 

“None taken...” Mick didn’t complain when the blonde nudged him into a ring on the sigil, standing stiff as he watched him work, “And what does it take to-” He didn’t seem to know how to finish that sentence, waving his hands vaguely. 

“Just a bit of blood; I hope you aren’t squeamish,” John pressed a small ring dagger into the agent’s hand, finding his own place on the mark, “And I do mean a ‘bit’. Not much at all, a prick will do just fine.” 

Still hadn’t run screaming for the hills. Either he was giving John the benefit of the doubt, or he was playing along until asylum workers came to take him away. Speaking of, if dear old brother was an FBI agent he probably had access to all sorts of information. Hopefully he was willing to ignore that stint in an actual asylum John had endured after what happened to Astra. 

“And then?” 

“Then it’s my turn,” he pressed the dagger against his finger, dragging it over the skin to bring forth a line of red, “You just stand there and look handsome.” 

“We have the same face,” Mick muttered, but did as he was instructed. A small line, a dot of blood that trailed his index finger. He didn’t move. He just watched with those dark eyes as John began to chant.

It was an old spell, in a language incomprehensible to most. Yet he spilled it from his lips like he’d spoken it all his life. He hadn’t been lying when he said it wasn’t complicated. Only a few lines, and then check the results. 

The magic was palpable in the air though. Thickening it, creating a breeze that shouldn’t have been possible underground. 

Around them the candles gained in height, blowing up to reach their waists and creating a ring of fire to chain them in. Flames danced from their wax, weaving through the air impossibly to flow around them. The heat was slightly uncomfortable as fire wound around their wrists; their fingers. 

Then each of their tendrils extended toward each other, meeting in the middle and connecting. 

And then it all went silent. So quick and sudden; snapping out. The flames disappeared, the candles burning out all at once. And they were left standing there with blood dripping down their fingers but had an answer at last. 

“Well I’ll be...” John swallowed, trying to digest the fact that it had been confirmed. Until he looked up to his twin, finding him pale faced and wide eyed. 

“What just...” Mick stayed on his feet, but he looked ready to fall. John was quick to approach him. He caught the man’s-his brother’s- shoulders to keep him standing. 

“Woah there,” he took a deep breath, waiting until those eyes met his; perfect reflections of each other, “You good?”

“What was the answer?” He asked after a second, still sounding close to fainting but determined to have his answer. 

“Your test was right,” John told him quietly, patting his shoulders somewhat awkwardly, “We’re twins. Now, how about we head upstairs and get you a couple drinks so you can digest all of this easier?”

“Yeah that-yeah.” 

The warlock took his brother-his brother!-carefully by the arm to lead him out of the basement. Wasn’t this a fantastic turn of events. He really needed a drink. Maybe two or three. 

Hopefully Lucifer wouldn’t be too upset if he was late to their meeting. This would require some effort.


End file.
